


Jeeves’s My Kind of Man

by mechanicaljewel



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Community: indeedsir, Cross-Vocals, Inspired by Music, M/M, Music, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-24
Updated: 2007-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeeves requires clarification on Bertie’s musical choice, but Bertie only manages to confuse the issue more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves’s My Kind of Man

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. The music is “He's My Kind of a Man” by The Flamingo Melodians, recorded 15 May 1930.
> 
> I got this plot-bunny from the liner notes of the compilation CD “Art Deco: Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man”. The compilation of recordings is from the ‘20s and ‘30s of love songs to men sung by men (for copyright reasons, record companies forbade anyone to change a single word of their songs when recording them, even a simple genderswitch!). All great songs to listen to while writing Jooster!

“ _I don't know him, never saw him,_ ” I sang, banging away at the ebony and ivory one day. “ _But in my dreams, I see my kind of a man._ ”  
  
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jeeves stiffen, interrupting his usual floating grace as he tidied up the flat. It was not an uncommon reaction to my new musical selections, but one likes to be considerate. Especially if the other party fishes one out of the soup on a fairly regular basis.  
  
“Something the matter, Jeeves?” I queried.  
  
“No, sir,” Jeeves answered, looking rather like a stuffed frog. If one has known Jeeves as long as I have, one could tell he was lying.  
  
“Jeeves, you are lying,” I stated firmly.  
  
He changed his tactics. “Not as such, sir. It is merely a personal trivial objection to your choice of performance. Think nothing of it: it is a reflection on me alone.”  
  
That was easy for him to say. The last time he objected to my c. of p. he left me to go work for my friend Chuffy. He returned in no time, but it was agonizing while it lasted. It is not a state of affairs I was eager to repeat. “Now, come, Jeeves. Out with it. I wish to hear your objections, no matter how trivial.”  
  
After a moment’s hesitation, he started in, “Well sir, the piece, while entertaining, seems to have been written with the intention that it be sung by a female.”  
  
“That is true, Jeeves, it is meant to be sung by a female, but I am allowed to sing it if I want, male or otherwise.”  
  
“I understand that, sir, but you must see that the lyrics, when sung by a man…”   
  
“But nothing, Jeeves!” I interrupted. “Those are simply the words, and one cannot change them: the music publishers get quite irate if someone so much as drops a preposition.”  
  
“I am aware of the standards that the music business places on public performances and recordings, but in the privacy of one’s own flat one may try variations on the given lyrics. After all, you yourself once creatively placed my name into a song that was previously about Vienna.”  
  
“Well if I sang this song to you, it would be bally silly to change anything, as it is addressed to a man, therefore you already fit the description in the song. Just listen.”  
  
“Sir…” Jeeves tried to warn me before I started, but it was too late.  
  
I looked straight into his eyes and started singing, “ _Never holds me, still enfolds me/In all of my dreams, He's just my kind of a man._ ” Suddenly I realized what Jeeves was on about.  
  
“Oh,” was all I said, but I stayed staring into those blue pools in his finely chiselled face.  
  
“Yes, sir,” he said with a slight air of an ‘I-told-you-so’. But there was something greater overlaying it. Regret, almost, or maybe closer to remorse. Well, I had an inkling that his r. or r. was rooted in the same place as the butterflies in my stomach.  
  
“Jeeves,” I said carefully, never taking my eyes from his. “Would you like me to continue singing the song? To you?”  
  
He nodded slowly. I patted the space on the bench next to me. Our eyes never leaving, he shimmered to the piano and sat down beside me. Now that we were properly situated, I picked up where I left off, keeping my eyes on his.  
  
“ _He's so near, yet so far/still he's part of my heart._ ” Jeeves let his hand fall from his lap and brush my thigh. “ _Haven't got him, never had him/But in my dreams._ ” I took in a deep breath for the big finish. But the moment I got my mouth open, Jeeves had covered it with his own. I finished singing the tune in my head, as I did not want to distract my mouth from its current task.  
  
 _I've got my kind of a man._  
  
***  
  
The Lyrics:  
  
He's My Kind of a Man  
from "The Floradora Girl"  
  
I don't know him, never saw him.  
But in my dreams,  
I see my kind of a man.  
  
Never holds me, still enfolds me.  
In all of my dreams,  
He's just my kind of a man.  
  
He's so near, yet so far  
still he's part of my heart.  
  
Haven't got him, never had him.  
But in my dreams,  
I've got my kind of a man.


End file.
